


To Outlive Another

by matskreider



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Joji's reaction to Billy's "death", M/M, and how that all played out, there's some sads but like, this is just a snapshot of how that moment went, we all know that it ends up okay in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matskreider/pseuds/matskreider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They hadn’t much talked about what would happen if either of them should outlive the other. Their confidence in each other’s battle skills had shunned them from the idea of what it would be like to live without the other. </p>
<p>Perhaps they should have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Outlive Another

**Author's Note:**

> Second work for Black Sails, second work for Billy/Joji - but this one's a little sadder. 
> 
> Leave a review, tell me how I'm doing!

A cutlass.

That’s all that was left of him, was a cutlass. A cutlass and the memories that he could never tell anyone else, never _would_ tell anyone else.

In the periphery of his vision, he could see Gates and Flint’s reaction. Flint stood, proud, as he took the cutlass from Logan. As he held it, he seemed determined not to look at anyone, instead staring straight out at sea. The very same sea that had claimed him.

That had taken Billy from him.

“William ‘Bones’ Manderly.”

The ship’s crew solemnly cheered “Huzzah,” but he didn’t join in. He never had spoken much to begin with, and the one person he had even tried to use words on, was gone.

He wouldn’t desecrate his memory by sharing one of the things that only _he_ had been privileged to have with the rest of the crew. They didn’t deserve to hear him speak, they didn’t need to hear him speak.

He watches, gripping his own katana as the cutlass is dropped from Flint’s fingers into the briny depths. He watches as the last remaining part of Billy that he could have selfishly kept for himself was gone.

Swallowed up by the same cruel mistress that had taken him in the first place.

Once more, he looks to the side. Gates clings to the edge of the boat, looking down, as if still trying to watch the cutlass drift through the water. He sees the shame and frustration, and he himself feels anger. He knows Gates had no choice, lest the rest of them share similar fates as the men they just buried. He made the only decision he could.

But he hates him. Hates that Gates got to make the call about someone **_he_** wanted nothing more than to protect. In trying to save everyone else, Gates had uprooted the one thing keeping him tethered to this cause. Flint’s captaincy had been waning, but he’d made a decision to follow Flint – just as Billy had asked him to.

With him gone…what did he stand to gain from this? What was keeping him here?

Slowly around him, people began to filter away from the side of the ship, returning to their nightly posts in silence. The ship was somber, quiet, and eventually Flint left as well, disappearing into the night as he walked back to his cabin. Eventually, only Gates and he remained.

Gates raised his head, turning and locking eyes with the one remaining person by the side. He takes a shaky, steadying breath, and speaks. “Joji…I’m so sorry. There wasn’t any other way.” Gates’ voice trembles with tears unshed, and the bald man then turns to take his own leave, needing his time to grieve alone.

Thus, the swordsman stood locked in the space he had been when he watched the only piece of Billy left in this crew leave, as a testament to his own death. Joji takes a deep breath of his own, his hands gripping the wood of the ship, knuckles white with the pressure. No one knew the impact of this particular death – if anything, perhaps the crew simply thought the stranger from across the hemispheres was mourning all of the men lost.

But Gates knew.

Flint knew.

It took a lot to continue to force himself not to do anything drastic. To reason with himself that Billy would want him to continue on, nay, _need_ him to continue on. They hadn’t much talked about what would happen if either of them should outlive the other. Their confidence in each other’s battle skills had shunned them from the idea of what it would be like to live without the other.

Perhaps they should have.

Hours passed, and he simply watched the sea pass away from beneath him. More and more miles between him and where he’d last seen Billy…and that had been before the battle. Before the plan to try and get involved in the battle on the _Andromache,_ before they’d even come out this far. Their last time together in any form of privacy had been so long ago, it felt like, and he wasn’t ready to let it go.

He doubted he ever would be.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep while standing, because he wakes up drawing his sword on the person who’s touching his shoulder. Gates ducks just in time, withdrawing his touch.

Slowly, Joji lowers the weapon, staring down Gates with a hatred and hurt he couldn’t put into _any_ spoken language, even if he tried.

Gates adjusts himself, before looking down at the weapon. “Normally this would be…his job,” he begins, watching as the swordsman twitches ever so slightly at the mention of Billy. “But now it briefly falls to me. You’ve been taken off the work cycle for the next two days. Save for a fight…take some time for yourself, alright?” He knows from experience not to expect an answer, and Joji doesn’t give him one.

Instead he turns, looking back out over the sea, sheathing his sword as he does so, effectively dismissing Gates.

* * *

Joji moved for next to nothing during his two days “off.” In fact, he only moved once.

From the side of the ship to the bowsprit, studying the wood there to see if maybe, just maybe, if he looked hard enough he could find one more trace of Billy, something to keep with him. He still saw him sometimes, in his dreams. The familiar smile and warm embrace that accompanied the kisses they’d sneak together when on duty, they **_haunted_** him. Seeing someone when you’re asleep only hurts more.

He prayed he would find answers. But all he found were memories reflected in the sea, looking back up at him, taunting him with the knowledge that he could never have back what he had lost.


End file.
